


Rooftops

by bucky_at_bedtime



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Peter Parker - Freeform, Reader Insert, Spider-Man - Freeform, angst if you squint, like really squint, peter parker deserves love, this is some cute stuff my guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucky_at_bedtime/pseuds/bucky_at_bedtime
Summary: Peter finds you one night on a rooftop. He can’t seem to stop himself from coming back.





	Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

> A fic that I started about a year ago. I could never figure out where I was going with it so I gave up for a long time. I came back to it this week, and I think it’s become something I’m quite proud of.
> 
> Check out my Tumblr: @bucky-at-bedtime

**11:09pm**

You stood, a precarious site on the New York skyline, a shadowy silhouette standing on a ledge. The wind brushes past you in calming gusts, full of the city you knew so well.

You loved the smell of New York. Sure, the place was polluted and there was a large homeless population, but you’d always loved how it smelled here. It was like once you had lived here for a while, you learn to tune out the ugly and suddenly all you can smell is the local sandwich shop. Or the maple trees that are scattered through the streets. The scent of fancy candles through open windows and cakes from the pastry store on the corner. Maybe it was the memories you could smell – a placebo of familiarity and knowledge.

Standing on a ledge in the middle of the night may be perceived as a strange thing to do, but you had found this spot when your first moved to Queens, and you couldn’t help but climb up every now and then. Ironically, it felt grounding, as if you were in complete control.

You felt your jumper moving with the wind and opened your eyes, studying the sky around you. Mostly clear. Still pretty cold. A few clouds blocked the full light of the moon, but the city was lit up anyway. Fire escapes draped in fairy lights and lamps shining through windows. Dull street lights scattered through the streets and headlights from cars passing by.

“Hey! Wait, don’t! Don’t do it, please!” A voice interrupted your moment of peace, filled with desperation and getting closer, you turned to find the source. “Don’t jump!”

You felt your eyes widen as the blur of red and blue barrelled towards you. He looked graceful as he ran but his voice was full of panic. You quickly realised he was talking to you.

Spider-man thought you were about to dive straight off a 20-story building and to be fair, you did look pretty suspicious.

You quickly threw your hands up, motioning surrender as he scooted to a stop. Slowly, you stepped down off the ledge, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “I wasn’t planning on it – nice to know Spider-man cares though,” you chuckled.

He was a few feet away from you, one hand outstretched. He still looked ready to catch you at a moments notice. “What the hell are you doing standing on a ledge, then?” He exclaimed a surprisingly high-pitched voice escaping the suit.

“I don’t know, I– I wasn’t gonna jump” you chuckled lightly, briefly glancing behind you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it––not in an ‘I want to die’ way––I just, I think it’s crazy that humans have the power to do that. That all it would take is one step and it’s all over.”

_Great, you sound like a crazy person. At least try to rectify this._

“I don’t want to die––really, I don’t––I guess it would just be interesting to see what it feels like. The free-falling. Not so much the hitting-the-ground bit.” You chuckled and stared down at your crossed legs, shaking your head lightly. You were rambling. You were rambling about jumping off a roof to a super-hero.

“I sound like a crazy person. I’m not suicidal. I promise,” you tried to justify, an awkward smile still on your lips “I like how the city looks from up here. It’s just something I do sometimes. Is that okay, spider-man?”

“No!” He protested, hands flying up in a gesture that said ‘are you crazy?!’ “No! I mean, I get it, but that is definitely not okay! What if– what if, I don’t know a there’s a massive gust of wind or– or a pigeon flies into you and you fall!”

His arms moved wildly as he spoke, and you found yourself chuckling more. This guy––who you’d never met before––was so distressed about the idea of you falling off a building that he had come up with multiple horrible scenarios and was now yelling them at you.

“You’re just a bundle of anxiety, aren’t you?”

“Wha-? How are you not scared of heights? I used to be terrified of heights.”

“So, you haven’t always been able to shoot webs out of your wrists and swing across the skyline of New York?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“So, Spider-man, my knight-in-shining-armour, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off fighting aliens, saving the world, chilling with Iron man?”

His arms finally dropped to his sides as you were safely away from the edge of the building and he felt as if he could calm down. “I’m more of a ‘friendly-neighbourhood-spider-man’ these days. Don’t have to save the world every night, ya know?”

“Oh, so when you’re not saving the world you monitor rooftops and stop people from jumping off them?”

“Sometimes,” he mumbled, his voice lowering as he became more relaxed in the conversation, “Sometimes I stop burglars. Sometimes I stop drug-deals. One time I helped find a lost dog.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips. “Wow, that’s… an impressive skill set. Wide range.”

Finally, you heard muffled laughter through the mask.

You both stood in silence for a moment, a substantial distance between you as wind blew a few leaves across the rooftop. You scratched the back of your neck, a nervous twitch.

“Well, I guess you should be off. I think the old lady in apartment 508 has a lost cat, you seen anything?” It was a lame attempt at a joke, poking fun at him. If the way his head tilted back told you anything it was that he was amused.

“No,” he chuckled again, running a hand over his covered face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Before you could say anything else, he was off. He leapt over the ledge and you turned to watch as a web shot across to the next building and he swung away. Soon, red and blue blurred into the city’s lights and he was gone. Just another light in the city full of darkness.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your lips as you watched him go. Of course you couldn’t. You’d just met the friendly neighbourhood spider-man. And he thought you were funny.

**12:54am**

A few days had passed. There were moments when you thought maybe you had dreamt up the encounter, but you knew it was real. You couldn’t help but hope that he’d come back.

You’d made a habit of hanging out on the roof. You liked it. It was quiet and loud at the same time. You felt like you could breathe up there. Some days you bought some homework with you, other days just a book or your phone. Some days you didn’t bring anything. Today, you had your headphones on, music pumping in your ears as you rested back against the tall ledge.

You would never have guessed that a certain superhero was standing a few feet away, deciding if he should make his presence known.

Before he had a chance to make that decision, you turned your head and spotted him out of the corner of your eye, “Spider-man!”

You couldn’t keep the excitement out of your voice when the familiar red and blue suit came into view, but when you saw what was in his arms, you raised a brow in questioning. “And… a cat. Is it bring your pet to work day or something?”

“This is the old-lady in 508’s cat. I thought you might like to take him back to her.”

There was a ridiculous grin on your face now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe it off. You were joking when you had told him about this cat, you never thought he would actually find it. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually found the cat – he’s been missing for weeks.”

“Uhh, he was in a dumpster. That I might have fallen into.” He tilted his head and reached up with his free hand to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment, “But that’s not important, I found the cat.”

You covered your mouth to muffle the loud laugh. His head fell forward in what you assumed was embarrassment. “I’m sorry, you fell into a dumpster? Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you’d think. More than I want,” he mumbled, “Oh my god, how have I managed to embarrass myself so quickly. I’m supposed to be cool. I’m Spider-man.” He seemed to be talking to himself, though it was loud enough for you to know he didn’t care if you heard.

“Don’t worry. It adds character. Nice to know that our local hero is just as clumsy as anyone else.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure he’s smiling. There’s no way to tell, but somehow, it feels like he is. Your teeth tug at your bottom lip as you try to hold back your smile. He steps closer, gently placing the cat down beside you.

You notice the mask stretch and the tell-tale intake of breath. He’s yawning. “Guarding the city must be tiring,” you mumble, gently nudging him with your elbow.

“Yeah, especially when I was up at 5am cramming for a Spanish quiz.”

“You’re in high school?” The shock in your voice was obvious. Here you were trying to figure out what the hell a parabola is for your math class and this guy––probably around your age––was drawing parabolas and saving the city.

He nodded, hesitant. He obviously hadn’t meant to let that slip, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“I wonder if we’re at the same one,” you hum, more to yourself than him.

“We’re not.” At his quick response, you turn to look at him. He’s shaking his head adamantly. “I would remember you.”

You find yourself trying to hold back another smile at those words, teeth digging into your bottom lip. If you couldn’t see his facial expressions, you’d at least attempt to hide yours too. Only fair.

You hear him yawn again and start to feel bad for keeping him up. “You should go sleep, Spidey.” You reach out to pat him on the shoulder, but decide against it, reaching down to pick up the cat instead, “I guess I’ll go return this cat.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

He’s almost at the edge of the rooftop when the words fall from your lips, “Will you come back?”

It’s quiet for a moment and you hear cars drive by, stories down.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

**11:46pm**

After that night, he comes by more often. Almost every night between 10 and 1, he swings over to your little rooftop. The two of you have fallen into a routine – he’ll sit beside you or across from you and you chat until one of you needs to sleep or you run out of things to say. More often than not it’s the first one.

He can’t reveal much, secret identity and all, but you know he has an aunt. You know that he loves her a lot and she worries about him. You know that he is really good at science and maths (he helped you out with that parabola problem). You know that he has a best friend. You know that he’s a nerd. _You just wished you knew his name._

He’s taken to pulling his mask up over his mouth and _of course Spider-man has a jawline carved by the gods._ He says that it gets hot and that his voice sounds weird under it. You don’t mind. You like the way he smiles. Sometimes you wonder if the rest of him is just as beautiful as his smile.

Tonight, he finds you in the same spot he did that first time. Standing precariously on the ledge, staring into the sky. He knows now, not to freak out.

Instead, he hops up beside you. Pulls the mask half way up. “Hey.”

There’s something about the way his says it, a certain monotony that urges you to ask, “You okay?”

He’s quiet for a moment, refuses to look in your direction. You want to reach out to him – you can tell something is wrong and for some reason all you can think about doing is hugging him.

Finally, he starts speaking, voice low. “I don’t like the word hero. Most of the time, I don’t feel like a hero.” He stops, takes a shaky inhale. “Tonight. I don’t feel very heroic.”

You don’t know what to say. You reach for his hand instead, threading your fingers between his gloved ones. You hope it makes him feel steady.

“You want to talk about it?”

He swallows. Nods. You squeeze his hand.

“There was this- this asshole. Holding a gun up to an old man in a 7/11. The guy didn’t even work there, was just trying to do good, ya know?”

He turned slightly, glancing at you through the mask. He wishes he could take it off.

“Anyway, I got there and I- I tried to web up his hand, pull the gun away, knock him down– something.” His voice shakes, breaks under the pressure and you want to cry, “I was trying to do something but… I wasn’t quick enough. Gun went off. Hit the old man in his shoulder.”

He felt your fingers tighten slightly on his hand and heard your breath stutter. He looked down at the ground below, watching a man stumble down the path, drunk out of his mind. He watched as the man fell down onto a stoop, dropping the bottle so his head could fall into his hands. He wondered briefly if the man needed help, but decided against it.

“He’s okay,” Peter continued, thinking back to the old man. “I came here from the hospital. I just…” he trails off.

You tug gently at his hand, urging him to follow as you step down off the ledge. It’s quieter down there, and you want him to hear you. You don’t let go of his hand.

“You save people every night,” you start, looking up at his masked eyes, hoping he can see how much you care. “Every night you patrol the city and protect anyone and everyone you can. You’ve saved so many lives and you probably just saved that man’s as well.” You hope the smile on your lips is comforting. You squeeze his hand gently. “You’re human, Spidey. We make mistakes.”

“Peter.” The word is quiet, almost a whisper as if he knows he shouldn’t say it but it’s all he wants to do. You don’t know what kind of response you expected, but his certainly isn’t it.

“What?” You whisper back, head tilted in mild confusion.

“My name. It’s Peter.”

It’s quiet for a moment but the grin on your face is all he needs to know that wasn’t a mistake. His own lips morph into a small smile too, and he can’t stop himself from squeezing your hand gently.

“If all it took was an inspiring speech I would’ve done that days ago,” you joked, falling back into your usual conversational humour. “If I say something else inspiring will do you take off the mask?”

Suddenly, he’s laughing, and so are you. The cold wind bites at your skin but it’s no match for the warmth that spreads from his hand to yours.

“Thank you,” he mumbles after a few moments. “Knew coming here would be better than going home and stewing in my self-pity.” He says it with a laugh, and you shake your head gently at him.

“You can always come here, Peter.” His name feels good on your lips, like it’s always been somewhere, on the tip of your tongue, just wanting to be said, “I’ll always come back.”

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He just tilts his head in a nod, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I better get home.” It’s quiet, a hidden meaning whispered in its shadow, ‘thank you.’ And then he is gone. Flying out of your life until tomorrow night.

**12:41am**

When he arrives, you say “Hi, Peter.”

He removes the bottom half of his mask to reveal a smile, and responds, “Hi, (Y/n).”

**10:05pm**

After that night, everything feels different. Something shifts in your intimacy, as if revealing his name had opened him up to you and made your friendship much deeper. He’ll lay an arm over your shoulders without a care, as if it was something he had always done. He pokes you to get your attention. You both seem to laugh louder and talk more. You find comfort in each other’s presence and it’s beginning to show.

“So, I hand this old lady back her purse, that I had heroically saved from this dumb thief, and she starts hitting me with it! As if I’d done something wrong!” His outrage was a gentle kind, he wasn’t really complaining, just whining for the sake of making you laugh. He put on a voice as he continued, you guessed this was his ‘Spider-man’ impression, “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t realise getting you back your purse was punishable by beating, I’ll just let the guy steal your stuff next time.”

“Jeez,” you laughed, a kind of breath-taking laugh, mirroring his joking tone as you responded, “you could use a little gratitude in this city.”

You try to remember a time when this wasn’t normal – when you didn’t consider a masked man one of your closest friends.

“You have that Science test tomorrow, right? The chemistry one?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, disappointment laced in your words. “I would rather be mortally ill than sit that test.”

“C’mon, you’ll be fine,” he nudges you gently with his elbow, “I’ll bring donuts tomorrow night from that patisserie around the corner. It’ll be like a ‘congratulations, you didn’t bail on a test’.”

He did that sometimes. Bought food from different places around the city. People just gave it to him – the friendly neighbourhood Spider-man doesn’t have a consistent wage, so the people of New York attempt to pay him back in kindness.

“Alright, I better get some sleep then.”

He hops up of the ground beside you, reaches a gloves hand out to help you up. He pulls too hard, though, underestimating his strength and you stumble forward, hands falling onto his chest as he grips your shoulders in an attempt to steady you, squeaking out a _‘sorry, oh my god,’_ as the two of you fall closer than ever before.

Something breaks, then. You both forget any fear you have as your breath mingles together, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of each other’s bodies.

And you find yourself staring at his lips, because they’re there, or maybe because they look _so damn soft._ You hear a quiet intake of breath, and you’re not sure if it’s yours or his. You blink softly and he watches as your eyelids close so very very briefly before you’re looking back into his eyes.

There’s this moment, when his lips brush so gently against yours, but it’s like a zap against your skin and you pull back, hardly even a millimetre back, but he notices, and he straightens up, clearing his throat and looking away. You do the same.

You both brush the moment off.

You step away and say goodnight like you always do, before you retreat to your room.

He stands on the roof for a while after you’re gone, full of confusion hope for what could have been. When he finally swings away, disappearing into the city, the Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-man can’t shake his thoughts of you.

**1:00am**

It’s late. Later than usual. You find yourself feeling anxious that he hadn’t shown up. It had become so normal to you, that when he didn’t grace you with his presence, you become worried. Was it something you said? Is he hurt? Is he dead? Will you never know who he really was? Is he avoiding you because of what almost happened?

But then there’s footsteps, landing on the the roof top and moving briskly towards where you’re standing in front of the door.

“I’m sorry – I know this is late, I was hoping you’d still be out here.”

“I was starting to think you’d ditched me, Pete.”

“No, no never, I just… I just got lost in my thoughts.”

“Anything you want to talk about rattling away in that head of yours?”

He shook his head gently. “Nah, not tonight. Can we stand on the ledge? Just for a little while?”

You bend down and leave your stuff in a pile beside the door. He reaches out and you lace your fingers between his. He steps up onto the ledge first, then helps you up.

“I was thinking about what you said, the other day.” His voice is quiet, nervous, and it mixes in with the whistle of wind flying by, “how you think about what it would feel like to fall. How you think it would be fun if it didn’t include the _bursting like a balloon full of red paint on the pavement.”_

You think you know where this is going, but you can’t be sure, as you turn to face him, a brow raised in curiosity as you hum an acknowledgement. You watch as he peeks down over the edge, eyes flickering from surface to surface and you know he’s planning something, but you just can’t connect the dots right now.

“Y/n, do you trust me?”

“Peter,” you started slowly, “I-I don’t know.” Your breath shakes as you speak, his left hand tightens on your fingers. His right hand comes up to the bottom of his mask and you’re expecting him to pull it up off his mouth like usual but when he gets to his nose he doesn’t stop.

He stares at the mask he holds loosely, his arm limp against his side but then he looks back up at you, and you lose your breath.

He has brown hair, curly and messed up from the mask and it’s perfectly tousled in a way that could only ever belong to Peter. He somehow looks exactly how you’d hoped but not at all like you’d expected. You still haven’t taken a breath when you catch sight of his eyes—god, his beautiful, soft eyes—studying your face. They’re nervous and tired and affectionate and in that moment you swear to yourself that you’ve never seen something so soft.

The breath escapes your lips in a rush, a gasp – almost a chuckle. His lips twitch up into a smile.

“Y/n,” he says again, quiet and heavy with want, “Can you trust me?”

You blink, and suddenly there’s a nervous smile on your lips. You breathe out one word.

“Yeah.”

All at once, his arms find your waist—tight, tighter than a hug—and he pulls you close. excitement runs up your spine, spreads through your body, to the tips of your fingers. You can’t find it in yourself to be scared, not when he’s holding you so tight.

“Hold on tight.” You can feel the brush of hot air over your ear as he whispered the words and you tighten your arms around his neck

And then you’re falling.

For a moment you feel nothing – weightless and frozen as terror and excitement settle in your bones. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear a ‘thwip’ and your stomach drops as you do.

He’s warm against you and the icy wind contrasts against it. You’re flying and plummeting and an intoxicating mix of emotions fills you and then you’re laughing and it’s hard to believe because you could be falling to your death – but he feels your chest bubble against his and warm air against his shoulder as you laugh into it.

You swing, jolt slightly at the bottom and then you’re going back up. A few more swings and then he slows and you feel your toes touching the rooftop and you take it as your cue to stand up.

His arm doesn’t detach from around your waist, though it does loosen.

“Was that… cool?” He asks, a nervous shake lacing his words.

You look up at him, windswept and buzzing. You almost startle again at his mask-less face, but then your smiling. And he’s smiling too. And it means so much more now that you can see his eyes.

Even though the mask is gone and you can look anywhere you want, you find yourself glancing down at his lips, as though it’s your first time seeing them. Your thumb brushes gently across the base of his neck, through the short hairs at the back of his skull. He’s glad the suit covers his goosebumps.

He’s even more glad when your lips brush against his and his entire body feels like it’s going to implode.

And he’s not letting it end – not like last time. He presses back against you, giving everything he can to this kiss in hopes that you’ll want more.

His other hand comes up to cup your jaw and you fall deeper into him when his thumb brushes lightly against your cheekbone. He kisses you, long and deep and with a confidence he didn’t know he had.

Your fingers tangle in longer strands of hair and you’re so glad he’s doing this without the mask on.

When you pull away from each other -, forced away by your need for oxygen -, your eyes stay closed for a moment, unable to bring yourself back to the real world. A sigh escapes his lips and you feel the breath across your own.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, voice raw with shock and hope and excitement, “That was pretty damn cool, Spidey.”

You pat his chest and a kind of joking/sportsmanship way and he laughs and you have to open your eyes to witness it. To watch how joy finds its place on his whole face.

A moment later, he lifts the mask slightly, still clutching it between his fingers, “You can’t say anything to anyone”

“I wouldn’t.” He knows. He doesn’t really need you to say that because he knows you’d never tell a soul. It was an unspoken rule; _‘What we say on the roof-top, stays on the rooftop’_

He smiles. He kisses you again, because one isn’t enough when it’s something you’ve been craving for months. You kiss him back, because you’ve always wanted to.

**11:01pm**

The next night, when he lands on your rooftop, the first thing he does is pull the mask off.

You both smile.


End file.
